


One Thousand Years of Yearning

by BardsOfTomorrow



Series: Omnia Iam Fient Quae Posse Negabam - Everything Which I Used To Say Could Not Happen, Will Happen Now. [1]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Hickeys, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Intense, KEITH DESERVES SHIRO AFTER ALL THAT, Keith deserves all the love, Keith is overwhelmed, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Obsessive Shiro, Possessive Behavior, SHIRO LOVES KEITH, Season 8 - Fix it, Shiro takes what he wants, shieth, shiro loves you baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-28
Updated: 2019-08-28
Packaged: 2020-09-28 12:42:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20426165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BardsOfTomorrow/pseuds/BardsOfTomorrow
Summary: “Be mine,” Shiro said once more, clear and loud into the desert air. “Be mine,” he reiterated. “You would want for nothing. I would kneel by your feet for all eternity if that is what you asked of me. I would shower you with love. I would do anything. Ask it, and it will be yours. I would find a way to capture the stars for you, if that is what you wish for –”“Oh, Shiro,” Keith breathed, and his voice never wavered even as his eyes glittered with tears. “I want nothing but you. You’re all I need; I want nothing more.” He laughed then, a wet, shy thing. “You idiot. What do you mean by to be yours?” He brushed away the tears that littered his lashes like so many pearls. “I’ve always been yours.”I’ve always been yours.





	One Thousand Years of Yearning

**Author's Note:**

> This is my, well, very first romance story ever written. I've never tried my hand at romance before, and I can only hope to succeed to a certain extent.  
Well, either way, I hope you enjoy.  
After all, Shieth is one of my favourite pairings, and I would want to do right by them.  
Peace out,  
BardsOfTomorrow.

Sometimes, Shiro couldn’t believe he was alive. Couldn’t believe he was blinking his eyes, squinting at the sun, couldn’t believe he could touch, feel the sand running through his fingers. Couldn’t believe he could hear, listen to the sound of laughter, of Keith’s laughter, couldn’t, couldn’t –

Sometimes, Shiro couldn’t breathe. Sometimes, the floor gave way beneath his feet. Sometimes, all he could hear was the ringing in his ears, the rush of his blood. Sometimes, everything fell apart. All too easily.

But every time, Keith was there. Catching him. Smiling at him. Touching his arm gently. Soft lips parting, _Shiro_. Brushing a raven lock of hair behind his ear before Shiro could do it for him, _Shiro._ Leaning up towards him, the view of his collarbones visible to Shiro, like the finest necklace, _Shiro._ Absentmindedly braiding the longer parts of his hair, his loose fringes brushing his cheekbones, framing his beautiful face, his beautiful face, looking up at Shiro, a sure smile on his rosy lips, _Shiro._

Shiro. Shiro. Shiro. Shiro. _I love you._

Looking at Keith now, bathed in the reds and oranges of the setting desert sun, Shiro wants nothing more than to say it back.

_I love you too. Be mine._

But those simple words are just that. Too simple. They could not signify, could not comprehend the levity of what he feels for Keith. Shiro could scrounge the universe for a million ways to tell Keith he loved him and it would still fall short. They would all fall short.

Because a simple “I love you” was meant for mortals. It was meant for those who did not die, only to be brought back by the power of love. Only to be brought back to be cradled in the arms of the one who would never give up on him. Keith deserved more than just what mortals had. He deserved the universe to kneel by his feet.

He deserved Shiro to kneel by his feet. He deserved Shiro to worship him.

And God, did Shiro want to. He was never the most religious, never the one to wait on prayers. But Keith, Shiro would worship Keith every day of his life if Keith would let him. He would bathe him in rose water and milk. Would sit by his feet, softly brushing along the ankles of his feet. Would kiss along his legs, would drink him in like fine wine until he could do nothing but gasp his name,_ Shiro, Shiro, Shiro. _

Lord, what Shiro would not give for a chance to worship his deity like he deserved to be worshipped.

Keith, benevolent, beautiful Keith, always answering his prayers. His every plea, his every cry of fear. To lay in Keith’s arms after a nightmare was rapture. The sound of his soothing voice like water to his parched tongue. The gentle touch of his hands a balm to his soul.

Beautiful Keith, looking up at him now, a concerned frown on his sweet face. His sable hair, wrought with violets and reds from the sun like the blaze of Kral Zera, outlined his sharp face in ringlets, curled into his eyes.

Shiro longed to brush it out of his face with a loving hand. Longed to touch. To _claim. Be mine._

“Shiro?” The voice of a kindly god.

“Yes?” he asks, but does he really? Was he ever to question Keith? Ever to do anything but follow him into the ether, chase him around the stars they both adored so much, ever to do anything but love Keith? Claim him, touch him, listen to him, every word, every breath, so precious, so damn wondrous – what a miracle it is that Keith Kogane exists.

“Are you all right?” Kind Keith, always so caring. So loving. Would he still love Shiro if he showed him the beast that lay within? That sought to claim the treasure that is Keith, sought to push him onto the desert sand and take him bare? Take him, take him, until they are one, forever and after?

“I’m always all right, as long as I am with you.” The words came from his stripped heart, bare and bloody, beating to the rhythm of Keith’s name. His saviour, his deity, his best friend, his dream incarnate. Every moment has led up to this. Every second, every fight, every tear.

He is home, in the presence of his love.

Keith blushes at his words, the rosy flush burning along the highs of his cheekbones to bleed out to the tips of his ears and down his slender neck. Shiro wants to tear away the collar of Keith’s Garrison issued jacket, rip apart the shirt underneath to lick along the line of his flush, wants to see how far it goes, wants to kiss and bite the skin to map the path it follows, until he would never forget.

Would Keith let him? Would he stammer and curl away, coy and inexperienced? Would he gasp his name, sweet and high, only for Shiro’s ears? Miles away from any other human or alien in the desert? What would he do?

Shiro wanted to find out.

It is then that Keith does it. He brushes his raven hair out of his face, only for it to fall back in swinging uneven waves, and pulls a lock of sable behind his blushing ear. He looks up then, at Shiro, through long black eyelashes, his unearthly violet irises shimmering in the dying light with love, and _hope._

Shiro never claimed to be a strong man.

He’s shifting forward before he knows what he’s doing, curling a hand around Keith’s curving waist (beautifully made, as the rest of him), the other coming up to cradle that sharp jaw, tilting that sweet face up with a brush of his thumb under his jawbone, up, up, up until Shiro is meeting soft, rosy lips with his own.

It is more perfect than he could have imagined. _Keith_ is more perfect than he could have imagined.

His lips are dreamlike, soft and indulgent, just like how the rest of Keith is with Shiro. Always, always. When Shiro licks along the seam of his lower lip begging for entrance, Keith parts with a gasp – and the sound is as beautiful as Shiro had dreamed it to be. Soft and airy, as delicate as a butterfly’s wings.

Shiro devours the sound whole. He licks into Keith’s mouth, primal and unstoppable, and Keith moans and trembles under the weight of his onslaught. He tries valiantly to keep up, but Shiro sweeps him away before he can gain the upper hand.

Keith pulls back for breath, but Shiro has had enough of breathing. He’s been breathing his whole life, but kissing Keith? He’s just started, and he isn’t ready to stop. He’ll never be ready to stop. Never again. Not when he’s had a taste of heaven.

He will consume Keith whole until they are one.

And so, when Keith pulls back, Shiro follows. He tails the gasping lips until they meet his again, and once again they dance. Shiro leads, and Keith follows like a maiden untouched, fragile and writhing.

But then again, Keith is untouched, so it makes sense that he would squirm and fumble. He _is_ untouched, isn’t he? The thought of another even thinking of touching his deity makes Shiro’s blood boil in his veins.

Shiro pulls away from Keith’s lips painstakingly to brush his hot mouth along the shell of his beloved’s blushing ear, growling lowly, “Who’s had you like this?” He has to know. He has to know who he must erase from his love’s memories, from entire existence itself if his deity only allowed for it. “Tell me. Who dared touch you before me?”

Keith opens his kiss swollen mouth to gasp out, “No one! No – _hnn, Shiro, please_ – no one but you! You’re the only one! It’s only ever been you!”

Shiro groans viscerally at those words. To be his beloved’s first and last – oh, the blessing. He trails his lips to the soft spot just behind Keith’s ear only to bite down on it gently – and the reaction is instantaneous. Keith trembles in his arms, his plush mouth open in a wordless moan.

Shiro drinks in the sounds like a man starved.

He kisses the spot before moving down to nibble along that sharp jawline, Keith’s gasping moans accompanying him. He licks down to Keith’s neck until he comes to the juncture where his neck joins his shoulder. He noses into the little crook of space, brushing his hand through Keith’s silken hair only to tug on it to pull his head to the other side, revealing to Shiro’s hungry gaze the entire accessible length of Keith’s neck and shoulder. He pulls down the jacket of Keith’s uniform for even more access.

Shiro brushes his mouth and nose along the space, feeling Keith tremble beneath him, inhaling the scent of his skin – like the dry desert air, like the scent of his body wash, like the scent of something uniquely Keith – flavourful and delicious. He smells good enough to eat. And so – Shiro bites down.

Keith’s cry is music to his ears, beautiful and holy. Shiro bites down and sucks. He sucks until he can taste the scent of Keith in his mouth, can drink him in. and Shiro – Shiro wants to apologise. He wants to apologise for marking Keith, for _devouring_ him like this so suddenly. But he won’t.

Because then he would be lying. He isn’t sorry for this. He won’t be made to. And there have been so many lies between them already – dying, _did he truly lie if he couldn’t speak?_ The clone, hurting Keith with his carelessness – there would be no more lies. No more.

And so, Shiro won’t apologise. Not if he doesn’t mean it.

Shiro finally pulls away to see the mark he left behind. It’d red, turning purple. He had bruised Keith with his kiss. He had marked him.

Shiro could find no remorse in himself for his actions.

Keith is panting beneath him as if he’s run a marathon, looking at Shiro as if it’s the first time he’s seen him. In a way, Shiro supposes he has. Shiro’s never felt like this before: this raw, unaltered desire to be with Keith. He’s never felt this with anyone else. Only Keith. Only ever him.

Shiro looks at Keith, and sees his lips, swollen and red, sees his neck, the bruise red too – red, like passion, like fire, like the Red Lion that Keith was made to pilot, like Keith himself, burning in endless determination and faith, scorching everything in his path to reach Shiro.

Keith, his beautiful, beloved Keith. Shiro felt like the _yo-kai_ king, waiting a thousand years for his human bride to be born, to find him, so that he could claim them as his once and for all, bring them home to be loved and cherished and ravished until they forgot everything but his name.

Shiro was the _yo-kai_ king, and he had found his bride. One thousand years of yearning had led up to this. One thousand years of war, death and suffering had all led up to this moment where his bride became his.

Shiro gently placed his forehead against Keith’s, even as his arms wrapped around like steel bands around his beloved’s waist, bringing them flush together, until Keith gasped into the air between them, his slender hands placed upon Shiro’s chest.

Shiro brushed his nose against Keith’s as he whispered, a plea, a demand, a request, a command: “Be mine.”

Keith’s eyes, which had been staring off to the point where their bodies met, suddenly snapped up to meet his. His violet eyes glowed under his dark lashes, ethereal and clinquant. “W-What?” came his surprised reply. Like he couldn’t believe what he had heard. Like he couldn’t believe Shiro could ever want him.

Silly bride. The _yo-kai_ king would always want his bride, no matter how they were. Their souls were bound to be together for eternity. He could never want anyone else. No one would compare.

“Be mine,” Shiro said once more, clear and loud into the desert air. “Be mine,” he reiterated. “You would want for nothing. I would kneel by your feet for all eternity if that is what you asked of me. I would shower you with love. I would do anything. Ask it, and it will be yours. I would find a way to capture the stars for you, if that is what you wish for –”

“Oh, Shiro,” Keith breathed, and his voice never wavered even as his eyes glittered with tears. “I want nothing but you. You’re all I need; I want nothing more.” He laughed then, a wet, shy thing. “You idiot. What do you mean by to be yours?” He brushed away the tears that littered his lashes like so many pearls. “I’ve always been yours.”

I’ve always been yours.

To Shiro’s ears, that bled for mercy and love. That bled for compassion and acceptance. That bled for Keith, Keith, beloved Keith. The one and only Keith Kogane.

It felt like coming home. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, folks!  
VIVA LA SHIETH, BITCHES.


End file.
